They say a single picture can paint a thousand words
But they never tell you that words paint pictures
Ever changing galleries displayed for our mind's eye
Versions and variations, changing, just like meaning
For we do not always see the whole picture
Just as we misunderstand words from time to time
But the pictures manifest, and adapt to understanding
Like some morbid nightmare we wake to
Forever repeating the same day over and over
Where the final outcome is always different
Because we changed what made the day each time
In essence, we will never see the whole picture
Nor will we ever see it the way the painter intended
For the mind's eye differs from soul to soul
And, just as visiting groups debate
On paintings in galleries on display
Because each thinks they know the true meaning
So it goes for works of the verbal brush
Each of us thinking we know the details
Of every stroke and punctuation
Hues of emphasis on syllables
And tricks of light and shadow upon the whole
What we do not understand is both complex and simple:
It is our privilege to look upon these words
Each of us with our individual mind's eye
And see what we will see in what we've heard or read
Forming our own pictures, differing as they do
And discuss our experiences and understandings
With others honored to share the art
For that is exactly what it is, an honor
For someone allowed us a glimpse inside
Into who they are and what they feel
Or simply into the words a picture painted for them
Transformed by the verbal brush into works of art
The one rule so often broken is this:
Only the creator of each masterpiece
Knows it’s true, exact meaning
Criticism is invited, for that is why we are here
But it is ignorance to tell someone who they should be
And who we think they are because of their words
In other words, it is the art up for criticism
Not the creator of the art
For art is an expression, not a definition
Criticism is meant to be constructive, not destructive
Some works may be better or worse than others
But the people behind those works are equals
We each create our own pictures
Every word of every line a stroke on the canvas
To quote Miss Eternal:
"We are eternal. We are poets."
We should treat each other as such